Chapter Text
Life sucked. Like really, really fucking sucked.
Peter was wrapped up in his comforter, watching old episodes of The Golden Girls to distract himself. God, those women were funny. He sent out a mental prayer to whatever god was out there for Betty White to stay alive and keep kicking. He was beyond well aware of how pathetic he had been over the past few weeks, but considering how horribly everything had been going? He couldn’t really bring himself to care.
September had passed into October, and he was an absolute mess. It wasn’t just the whole thing with MJ (That’s a big part of it, Harry-not-Harry said matter of factly), though that sucked. He had loved her for months, and to know that she felt similarly but didn’t want to be with him? He thought that hurt more than outright rejection.
And what sucked more was that she was right in everything she said. It wasn’t fair to her to date someone who did the bare minimum to stay safe in such a dangerous job. He hurt himself without realizing he did it and didn’t even want to try to get better. She cared about him too, yeah, but just because she cared about him and he cared about her didn’t make it fair to hurt her. It was his own stupid brain that was the problem, and his responsibility to at least get to the point where he wanted to try to fix it.
But he just couldn’t. Maybe if the murders weren’t still continuing, though thankfully with no with his name at the crime scene, he could have tried to feel better. But he was still being barred from patrolling by Gwen and Miles, who had taken one glance at him and told him he needed to take care of himself. He had told him about the tooth, but they had pointed out what he had already figured out, that you couldn’t be in two places at once. They had argued it had to be a partner of Toomes, planting evidence to mess with his head.
Peter knew that wasn’t right. Miles and Gwen were some of the smartest people he knew, but they weren’t right. Of course, he didn’t have any proof. It was far more likely that Toomes had a partner than he was able to mess with reality, but Peter felt in his gut that there was something more going on.
The needing to take care of himself, on the other hand….well, that hadn’t been far off.
The not eating hadn’t been intentional. It never was. But the stress of being able to do nothing to help people, and the realization that the only person keeping him from being happy was himself? Sue him, he had lost his appetite.
At the very least, he was able to sleep again, the sadness pulling him under and granting him hours of dreamless sleep.
Thank god, because if he saw Harry right now, he’d lose his shit.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked, staring at May’s living room. It was Friday, their usual dinner night. Peter hadn’t been eating much, but he had made sure to keep up with the routine of seeing his aunt. If he could prevent hurting one person, it would be May, even if he had to choke down the food he made. It always tasted like ash.
May had opened the door and led him back here, where Tony was sitting in their old armchair. Coffee mugs were on the table; he’d clearly been here for some time.
"Are you holding an intervention for me?” No one said anything, and Peter glared at both of them in turn.
“An intervention has multiple people,” Tony said, trying to give him a grin. “This is just dinner with two parties who are concerned about you.”
It wasn’t that he didn’t get it. He was sad, not lacking self-awareness. He had been majorly struggling and giving up on the pretense of taking care of himself. That didn’t mean it was okay for them to do this, to surround him when he wasn’t expecting it. It was underhanded, manipulative. “Well, great talk, you two, I’ve got to go,” he scowled, turning around and going to leave.
“Peter Benjamin Parker, sit down right now,” May said, voice steely. Peter stopped, considering running anyway. Neither of them could outrun them. Even in his suit, Tony usually let Peter go ahead of him during fights. But if he didn’t let them talk at him, then they would try this again. Better let them get it over with before he could go wallow in his own misery. He sat back down, not looking either of them in the eye. If they were going to talk, they could talk at his forehead.
“Peter, honey, we’re worried,” May said finally, her voice much softer now. “We tried to give you some leeway, let you process through what’s going on, but you look sick. I’m afraid you’re going to start passing out again.”
“That’s not something you have to worry about,” Peter lied. He’d been feeling dizzy the past few days in lab, but he refused to think about what that meant. “I’m just stressed, okay? Midterms are coming up, they still haven’t gotten Toomes to confess.”
“Toomes didn’t do this, Peter. He’s been in jail and they checked his teeth, he hasn’t lost any,” Tony argued.
“It could be a fake.” Tony got up, started to pace.
“Peter, it doesn’t matter what the hell is going on with Toomes, okay? You’re not okay right now. You’re not safe right now. And you know what’s worse? You won’t even be honest with May and me about how bad it’s gotten. We can see how much weight you’ve lost, Peter.”
“It’s just a few pounds, I told you, I’m stressed!” How could he explain how food had no taste, how it brought no pleasure? How even just chewing exhausted him when he was this goddamn sad? They wouldn’t get it. It was easier to lie. “And it does matter! People are dying and everyone else is just waiting around for the next body to drop. If you all would just let me patrol and figure out how he’s in two places at once, I could finally, I don’t know, relax? Maybe feel better because I didn’t let another person die? I’d be fine if I could just solve this!”
That’s not true, and you know it.
“Peter, we know what’s going on, so please just stop lying to us, okay?” May asked, leaning forward and putting a hand on his knee. Peter’s eyes narrowed, and he tried to ignore the warmth of her hand. That was one of the shitty things about his metabolism; he got so cold when he had trouble eating. Add in the fact that it was October, and the cold breezes didn’t help.
“What do you mean, you know what’s going on?” He asked, looking at the two of them.
“We have a thing called eyes, Pete,” Tony said under his breath, causing May to shoot him a murderous glare.
“What Tony means to say,” she said pointedly, “is that we’ve noticed, Peter. And so have your friends. They’ve all gotten in contact with us because they’re concerned about you, and they don’t know how to help you anymore.” Peter felt the anger course through his veins, but what was stronger was the shame. He knew he wasn’t exactly hiding what was going on, but knowing that his friends knew? That they had actually gone to Tony and May to tell them they were worried? God, he wanted to crawl up into a ball and die.
“I don’t need help, I need time.” Time to just get his shit together, be better.
“With your metabolism, Pete, you don’t get that much time,” Tony said seriously. “Just because you won’t admit there’s something wrong doesn’t mean we’re going to let you just wither away and die. Not again.”
“Are you serious?” Peter couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice. Jesus, this was getting annoying. Was no one listening to him, or did they genuinely not hear him when he said this wasn’t the same?
“We are, baby. We want you to talk to someone, anyone, Peter. I know it’s scary, I know you don’t want to do it, but it’s okay to need that extra help. It’s alright if you’re feeling-suicidal again,” May said, her voice sorrowful.
“I’m not trying to die! It’s not like last year!” He blew up at that point, the remark about the past shitshow that had been his life last year the final straw. “I get it, I’m messed up over Harry, everyone knows! Everyone talks about it behind my back, too, because apparently, you’re all afraid of breaking me. But I am trying to handle it, and I know its not great, but I am trying. Everyone is constantly smothering me, asking me what’s wrong; maybe if you all just left me alone and let me deal with my shit I wouldn’t feel like this!” He got up to leave, and Tony’s words stopped him in his tracks.
“I love you Pete, but you’re not trying. If you’re going to lie to us, fine. But don’t lie to yourself like that.”
“Fuck you,” he snarled, grabbing his thin coat and leaving the apartment, slamming the door so hard on the way out that he heard the wood crack.
It didn’t matter.
He raced down the steps of the building, ignoring the elevator. He really didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts right now, he needed to run, to do something. He was about to leave the building when he heard someone running after him. He stopped, turning around to see Tony coming towards him. Screw that.
He opened the apartment building doors and walked out, ignoring the curious looks people were giving him when they saw Tony following behind him.
“Peter, stop,” Tony said, grabbing his arm and stopping him in place. Peter let it happen, knowing that if he wanted to he could yank his arm away so fast it would dislocate Tony’s shoulder. The people walking by moved around them, as if there was some barrier that kept them from being bumped into. Tony got more odd looks, but he didn’t seem to care, didn’t even really seem to notice that they were standing in the doorway of the store that used to hold Ben’s favorite bakery, but became a shoe shop his freshman year of college. “Pete, I know that was hard to hear, but you needed to hear it.”
“Not really, no. You wanted to say it, but that’s different,” Peter argued, voice low. He really wasn’t interested in being told a second time that he wasn’t trying to get better. Not because he’s wrong, but because he’s right, Harry-not-Harry suggested.
“Peter, I always wanted better for you. I know I haven’t been the best mentor over the years, but all I’ve ever wanted was to know you were safe and to know you were happy. And Peter, kid, ever since Harry died-you’re not the same kid anymore. And you don’t have to be, god knows I wasn’t after Jarvis died, but you’re shutting down, and I don’t know what to do anymore,” he said, his voice hopeless. Tony looked utterly, utterly lost, and Peter emphasized. He had no idea what he was really doing anymore, other than going through the motions and trying to act fine.
“I’d be better if you all were actually listening to me when I said I’d be able to figure this out,” Peter responded, pulling his coat tighter around him. “You all seem to think this is just Harry’s Death 2.0., and it’s not. I needed help then, but I’ll be okay now, if you all just give me some space,” he lied. It wasn’t that he was lying about wanting space-if anything, he craved solitude right now. He didn’t want to be around anyone for the foreseeable future. But the logical part of him could see his behavior, see his weight loss, see his thoughts. That part of him knew he needed help.
But he lied anyway.
Tony looked so sad.
“You sound like you did a year ago, Peter.” The words were like a slap to the face. “Just because you say it doesn’t make it true, kid.”
“We’re talking in circles, Tony. I get it, you’re worried. But just give it a rest, let me just deal with this on my own,” Peter muttered, his voice dark. Tony just stared at him. Peter knew he was cranky, knew he was bitter. It felt like poison was in his veins, rearing its ugly head when anyone got too close to him.
“God, Peter, I wish you hadn’t turned out like me,” he whispered, an almost horrified expression on his face.
Something in Peter shattered. He turned away, walking fast so Tony wouldn’t be able to catch up with him this time.
There was no need to. Tony didn’t even try to follow.
Peter was absolutely not in the mood for a party.
The last thing he wanted was to spend time around a bunch of drunk people in costumes, hearing them laugh and yell and spill beer all over the floor. But Johnny had begged him to go last week, before everyone had snitched on him for being sad, and angry as he was, he had promised he’d be there. It was either that, or find somewhere to sleep for the night. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at home, and he would rather get stabbed again than stay the night at Tony or May’s right now.
The two of them had been sending him texts and voicemails all day, and he finally shut his phone off when Ned asked to help him decorate. With his and Miles’s ability to climb up the walls, they always were able to put the fake webs in the best places.
So there he was, wrapping a pumpkin garland around their bookshelf and trying to tune out Johnny’s instructions on how to play Spooky Pong.
“Hey, Pete,” Ned whispered, nudging him with his shoulder. Peter looked up tiredly at his best friend, and Ned held his hand out. He opened his fist to show him a Kit Kat. “I grabbed it before Johnny could start his sugar rush,” he said, a smirk on his face. Despite the anger he felt at all of his friends, his guard went down a little, and he smiled at Ned. It felt empty, weird, but it was still a smile.
“Thanks, dude,” he said, taking the candy and putting it in his flannel pocket. Ned, to his credit, didn’t say anything about his eating it, just chatted with him as he put stuff up on the walls of the apartment. It was moments like this when Peter loved his best friend most, and he let himself wrap himself up in the comfort of Ned’s voice.
“But yeah, so Betty said that I should wear a Human Torch costume, but no way, Johnny will think I’m trying to be an asshole. She said he would think it was hot, but I mean, who actually thinks someone else dressing up like them is hot?” Johnny, actually. “Anyway, I decided to go as Thor, but no wig. Not a fan of hairnets,” he rambled.
“What about Jordan?” Peter asked absentmindedly, handing him tape for the decorations. Ned stopped for a second, but then kept on taping.
“He’s, uh, not coming. We haven’t been talking really, not for a while, anyway,” he said, trying to look like it didn’t matter at all. When the hell had that happened? It must have been recently, because Peter would have remembered that.
“Are you serious? But you two-” Ned shook his head. “Since when?”
“A few days after you got arrested. Or, talked to, I guess. MJ said you didn’t actually get charged.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Peter asked, genuinely confused. He and Ned told each other basically everything.
“I didn’t want to bother you. You’ve just been going through it, and I didn’t want to put more on your plate.” Peter frowned at that. Yeah, he felt like shit, but he would have listened to Ned. That was his best friend, had been for years.
“What happened?” Ned shrugged, that same false casual look on his face.
“He basically said he didn’t want to date a guy who was friends with a murderer,” Ned said, rushing the words out. Peter reeled back, stunned. “I told him that it was fucked of him to say that, that there was no way you did anything, but he didn’t care. It doesn’t matter Peter, seriously. I don’t want to date someone who treats my best friend like that.” His voice was so earnest that Peter almost wanted to cry. Here he was, the reason behind his friend being broken up with, and Ned wasn’t even mad at him. He didn’t deserve him.
“Does anyone else know?” Peter asked, keeping his voice down.
“I don’t think so. I think MJ might suspect it, but that’s because MJ knows everything. I just didn’t feel like hashing it out with everyone, they would have gone and freaked out on him in your honor. Though, to be honest, I would have joined them on that,” he joked.
“I guess that leaves you the chance to scoop up Johnny tonight, then, since he thinks Thor is the hottest Avenger,” Peter said, trying to match Ned’s energy. Screw Tony and his ‘you’re not trying’ bullshit. He was trying very hard not to be the definition of an emotional black hole right now.
“Yeah, sure. I heard him talking about how he plans on going home with someone tonight and getting numbers from the runner-ups,” Ned scowled. Goddamn it. Peter wanted to point out that that was only the plan because Johnny assumed Ned was going to be with Jordan tonight, but that wasn’t his secret to spill. He probably had mentioned it without knowing Ned was in hearing distance, the jackass. Peter loved him, but sometimes he really did want to throttle him.
“Just trust me, Ned, talk to him tonight, okay? I promise, it’ll go better than you think. Now have fun with the rest of this, I need to go figure out my costume.” That was all he was going to say on the matter, if they still hadn’t confessed their feelings by the end of the night, he was going to wash his hands of them.
He handed Ned the tape and dashed, hearing Miles yell something about his not having his costume planned yet. Even if he hadn’t been sad, chances were he’d still be doing a last-minute costume.
Peter hadn’t originally been in the mood for the party, but with a cup of basically eighty-percent vodka in his hand, it was slightly tolerable. Johnny had taken it upon himself to invite what looked like the majority of the building into their tiny apartment, so many people that they actually just left their front door open to make it easier.
It was loud, messy, and crowded. He could barely hear himself think over the sounds of music and talking, the clink of bottles, and the sound of people egging each other on as they played drinking games. Everyone was dressed up, some people in fantastic costumes, others in wild, last-minute outfits. He was definitely in the second group.
What mattered most about Halloween was the candy and getting tipsy, not really the costumes. Most of the time, at least the past two years, he and his friends usually came home wearing someone else’s spilled drink, so it didn’t really matter to him. He had thrown on a yellow sweater and a button-down, and put on some old glasses. After making a pair of ears, he was all set. It wasn’t the most fun, but every person he had seen tonight, even the people who were already drunk, had been able to guess who he was.
He took a sip from his cup, checking his phone anxiously. There were no messages from the drone he had sent out. He knew there was no real reason to check it-Miles was checking it too, since he was the one on tonight, but it was a nervous habit at this point. Add in the fact that it was a Saturday in October, and there were no doubt Halloween parties happening all over the city, he couldn’t help but feel a little worried. If Toomes wanted to find another victim of opportunity, it wouldn’t be hard to separate someone from their group of friends.
“C’mon, Pete, play with me!” He looked up to see Johnny, who was jogging towards him to pull at his arm. “Harley tapped out, I need a pong partner,” he pouted. Johnny and Ned had had similar ideas, with Johnny in his own Thor costume. Peter wasn’t sure if Betty had somehow convinced them both to go as Thor (coincidentally, he was the Avenger Ned thought was the hottest too) or if Johnny and Ned were already acting like an old, married couple who showed up in the same outfit.
“Go ask Ned,” he shouted, trying to be heard over the music. Johnny rolled his eyes once he heard his comment.
“I can’t ask him, I want him to watch me play. That way I can win and he’ll think it’s hot and he’ll fall in love with me,” he rambled, patting Peter’s shoulder.
“Go ask Gwen, then, you two will be unstoppable,” he sighed, pointing towards where Gwen was flirting with Riri. Johnny sighed, but stomped off, going to Gwen and grabbing her arm. The cup of alcohol helped, but he was quickly reaching his limit of “fun” tonight. Usually, he loved Halloween, and it was a bummer that he felt so shitty, but his bed was calling him. Maybe he’d be able to convince his brain to sleep somehow?
“Long night already, huh?” Well, fuck. Peter turned to see MJ staring at him, wearing a billowing white dress.
“Yeah, with Johnny already a few in, it’s bound to be a long one.”
“I like the costume. Arthur is pretty accurate for you,” MJ said, looking at him up and down. For once, MJ didn’t sound as confident as usual. Not that he wanted MJ to feel uncomfortable, but it was nice to know it wasn’t just him who didn’t know how to act around her. Were they supposed to go to how they always were? Or be more formal? Or less formal, since she liked him, but just didn’t want to be with him? He rushed to answer, trying to push the thoughts away in his brain.
“Thanks, Ned and I always watched it together. I like the Beatrice costume,” he said, trying to act normal. It was normal to compliment a friend, right? Especially if they looked super beautiful?
Okay, so this wasn’t his strong suit.
MJ didn’t seem to pick up on his panic (and if she did, she didn’t say anything), just giving him a little smirk.
“So you did end up watching it with Miles,” she said, and Peter remembered the semester where Miles had been forced to design set backdrops for his job at the time. He had made them all (aka, Peter, since everyone else lied to get out of them) watch Shakespeare adaptations with him, taking notes feverishly.
“It was good, what can I say,” he shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. The two of them were silent, not saying anything, and Peter could feel the momentary lapse in tension fade away. Once again, it was awkward.
“Peter-”
“Sorry, I-”
They both stopped, looking at each other. Peter had been going to make up some excuse about having to take a call, which wasn’t entirely wrong. He did have a ton of voicemails from May and Tony to listen to, but there was no way he was doing that. But MJ clearly wanted to talk, so he stayed silent, motioning for her to talk first.
“I wanted to say sorry,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her. Damn, this was the kind of conversation they probably should have in a quieter area, though he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear everything she had to say. Especially since it was probably about that night on the roof.
“C’mon, let’s go out on the fire escape,” he said, taking her hand and bringing them to his room. There were tons of people in the way, but thankfully, using a little bit of his super-strength helped him push through without too much problem. Once they got in his room, he closed the door-he didn’t need random people coming in-and went to open his window for the two of them. He needed fresh air. He climbed out, waiting for MJ to follow him and sit down before talking.
“To be honest, MJ, you don’t really have to apologize. You were right, on the roof.” Better to bring it up before she did. She looked at him, puzzled.
“Peter, that’s not what I wanted to apologize for. I stand by what I said on the roof. I am sorry for hurting your feelings, but I don’t think us dating right now would be a good idea.” Yikes. Again, he knew she was right, but hearing it again still felt awful. “I wanted to apologize for May and Tony.” Oh. He had figured that MJ had talked to them-he had assumed all of his friends had-but he was surprised that she was actually apologizing. “Not that I don’t stand by what I said to them, either. I am worried about you, and I do think you need help. But looking back, it probably wasn’t the best way to go about it.” Peter shrugged. There wasn’t really a point hashing it out now, because to be frank, he wasn’t really sure what a good way to go about it would have been. He would have been defensive no matter what. He said as much to MJ, feeling a bit of guilt for how she chewed on her lip in frustration.
“I just don’t know how to help anymore, Pete. You keep on going between acknowledging that this has to do with Harry, and then denying that it does. And Ned told me what’s going on, how you’ve been doing-I know what I did was right, but I feel like I’m part of this. Part of why you’re feeling like this.” MJ looked almost defeated, like she wasn’t sure what to do. He had only seen that look on MJ once, last year.
“MJ, no, look,” Peter said, leaning forward and putting a hand on hers, “this? My being genuinely shit at taking care of myself and responding normally to stuff that happens? That’s on me. That’s on me and my messed up brain. I mean, yeah, I was upset by what happened on the roof. Because how could I not be, with the way I feel about you?” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and tugging on the strands slightly. “But that’s not on you, y’know? If I wasn’t a hot mess of a person right now, I don’t think I would be, y’know, in general,” he said, making a hand-waving motion towards himself. “That problem already existed. You didn’t make it worse, okay? You never could.”
“But-” Peter shook his head, squeezing her hand.
“MJ, I know you hate being interrupted, but I’m not going to let you try and blame yourself, okay? Or try to come up with a reason how it could be your fault even a little bit. That’s what I do,” he said, trying to joke. “And anyway, as everyone seems to forget, there is still a serial killer on the loose who’s trying to make a point to me.”
“Gwen said that she and Miles thought you were focusing too much on the Toomes angle,” MJ said, playing with one of the necklaces she had on. This one was gold, but around her neck was the chain that he knew was part of the Dahlia necklace.
“Because I know it’s him. I get it, it’s impossible to be in two places at once, but I know in my gut that that’s what’s going on,” Peter sighed, the sounds of the party filling the silence between them. Finally, MJ spoke up.
“I believe you, Peter. I don’t know how it could be possible, but I know you. And if you think that it’s him, I trust you. You’ll figure out how, okay?” Peter nodded, and MJ smiled then, a real smile that physically made his chest hurt. They were outside and could just see the stars from where they were sitting, but MJ blew all of them out of the water.
It was funny. She didn’t want to be with him, and yeah, that hurt. But being with her and just talking, just seeing her smile? It completely erased that feeling. It was like a momentary reprieve from carrying the load of sadness that had been strapped on his back for the past few weeks. It was still there, he could still feel it, but it felt a little bit lighter, knowing MJ believed in him like this.
“I’m going to go back to the party, loser,” she said with an almost fond tone to her voice. “Don’t sit out here too long, you’ll freeze.” She took her hand out of his-had they been holding hands that entire time?-and went back through the window, leaving him there on the fire escape. He could hear her go back into the party, and the close of his bedroom door.
He let himself bask in that feeling of strength. He knew it wasn’t healthy to rely on that feeling; it wasn’t MJ’s responsibility to make him feel better and it wouldn’t be fair to her for him to only feel better when he was around her. But in that moment, he let himself just breathe, feeling clearer than he had since that night on the roof. He could think again, the fog of sadness clearing up just a bit so he could see more than just his feet in front of him.
MJ was right, as per usual. He kept on swinging from acknowledging what was wrong to denying it entirely. And that was exhausting. He wasn’t sure if he knew how to stop that, but he didn’t want to keep doing this, he realized. He was tired. He was tired of hurting people. He had been feeling so badly he hadn’t even thought of how his friends and family would react. Of course they blamed themselves, he would have too if he was in that position. He couldn’t keep doing that to them anymore.
He was about to go inside when his phone beeped, and he looked down to find the screen lighting up.
The drone had found something. He listened to hear if Miles was coming, straining his ears above the sound of the party, and he could hear him arguing with Johnny. Maybe he had his phone on silent? Or couldn’t hear it?
Or maybe his phone was going off for a reason.
If Toomes could be in two places at once, there was a possibility that he could make sure the drone only contacted Peter. The man had shown he was clearly skilled with technology. His phone continued to beep, showing a spot near the zoo.
You should go get Miles, Harry-not-Harry said. He’s contacting you directly now, it's not safe. And you still haven’t gained back all the weight you lost to win a fight easily.
Harry-not-Harry had a point. He wasn’t physically in the best condition right now. But if Toomes was reaching out to him-and only him-with this newest crime? He meant for Peter to be there, and Peter alone. Clearly, the man wasn’t above killing. Who’s to say he wouldn’t hurt Miles?
He had to do this alone.
Peter put his phone on silent, muting the beeping, and slipped quickly back in through his window. Tony had never given him his suit back after the stabbing, so all he had was the old uniform. The uniform without Karen.
Peter! You can’t go out to fight a serial murder without your AI!
It didn’t matter if he couldn’t. There wasn’t room for couldn’ts. He had to do this. He needed to do this, to end this. He wasn’t sure if he would survive if he didn’t.
He wasn’t sure if he would survive if he did.
He got dressed quickly, shucking off the Arthur costume and pulling on the suit. It wasn’t the best move, sneaking out of the apartment with it already on, but he hoped that with all the Halloween parties going on, people would just figure he was a Spiderman look alike. He left back out the window, giving his room a final look before shutting it behind him.
He jumped off the fire escape onto the wall of the building next to him, climbing up onto their roof. He had no AI in this suit, but he had his phone with him, and he took a quick look at the drone’s location to figure out the fastest way to get there. After a split second, he was off, jumping and swinging to get to Toomes.
It felt different, he realized on his way there. He knew somehow that he wasn’t going to find a body this time. It was different, Toomes had behaved differently by messing with the drone. The ball was in his corner now to adapt to the change and do what he needed to do. He wasn’t going to let this go on any longer. He just hoped he would be able to stop the man without having to hurt him too badly.
Peter had changed a lot since Harry had died, but he was staunch on killing being the utmost, most desperate last resort.
In a few minutes, he had gotten to the small side street near the zoo, and he let go of his web, dropping to his feet. It was quiet, with no one around. That alone made his stomach knot and his nerves tell him to run. He lived in one of the most populated areas in the world, there was always someone around walking or talking.
He peered down the small alley to the left of him, and that’s when he saw it. A glowing blue light, hidden behind a trash can and a few boxes. It was an unnatural sort of blue, so bright that it almost hurt his eyes. Peter walked towards it, a sick feeling in his stomach once he got closer.
Sitting inside an old crate was the Tesseract. Oh, this was not good.
Peter knew he needed to call Tony, call Miles, call Gwen, hell, call literally anyone. But the blue of the Tesseract was almost hypnotizing, making him move even closer and crouch down without him realizing it. In the second before his fingers touched it, time seemed to stop like it had right before being stabbed.
For once, though, rather than all of the choices he made leading up to that moment racing in his head, the unanswered calls from May and Tony were all he could think of. He hadn't planned on answering them anytime soon, figuring with a kind of naivety he should have known better to harbor that for him, time wasn’t guaranteed.
Then his fingers touched the surface, and he was sucked away.
Going through the Tesseract was like nothing he had ever felt before.
It made sense, of course. It’s not like he had ever gone through a wormhole before, or that it was something he could read about and get an idea of what it would be like.
It didn’t hurt, but it did feel weird. He could feel his body moving and pulling, but he was aware of it in the way that a person was aware of cars behind them on the highway. He couldn’t see what was happening, like it was a perpetual blind spot while he was driving. He wasn’t sure how long the process took, it felt like forever and also no time at all. But he didn’t really mind. It was peaceful, really.
Without any warning, though, he was spat out, landing flat on his face on a cement floor. It was still night time, wherever and whenever he was, the moon shining through a broken window above him. He sat up, looking around to see that he was in what looked like an abandoned warehouse, filled with old crates and dusty machinery. The building itself was quiet, but he could hear the sounds of laughing and talking and music faintly outside. Sounds of life.
Peter got up, looking around. There was no body, no sound of a threat. It seemed like he was really alone. He took his phone out of his pocket, noticing that his phone read about twenty minutes earlier than it was when he had last checked it. It still read the same date, though. Weird.
He turned on the flashlight and started to look around, hoping that he would find something, or at least the way out. The building was huge, full of looming, foggy shapes and cobwebs in the corners. Other than hearing rats scurrying around, it seemed like Peter was alone. Hell, he couldn’t even see where the Tesseract was. He had assumed it would come with him, but that was only a guess. Was it still in that box near the zoo?
He was looking around when he noticed something in the corner, a large looming shape. He went closer, shining his flashlight to see a tarnished, worn carousel horse staring back at him. The paint was chipped, showing the wood underneath. It smelled old, and Peter wouldn’t have been surprised if he had touched it and it would have collapsed, hollowed out by mites long ago.
It was what was behind the horse that was chilling, though. A large cage was tucked away into the corner, a blanket on top of it so that if you were walking by, you wouldn’t notice anything. Peter listened to hear the sounds of breathing, but there was nothing coming from the cage. Taking a deep breath, he crouched down and flashed the light in.
The cage was filled with things. A pair of white shoes, a bracelet, glasses, a set of keys, a familiar-looking knife, in addition to a pile of other junk. Peter looked closer, his stomach turning when he realized that all the objects were dotted with blood. The shoes and the knife-
That had been the knife that stabbed him. And those shoes-Elizabeth Avila had a pair of white shoes on before she had died, her roommate had shared that with the police. The shoes that weren’t on her feet when he had found her body.
Toomes had led him to his trophies. Peter thought he was going to be sick, and he moved to throw up away from the items. If he was going to lead anyone back here, he had to make sure he didn’t destroy the evidence.
That’s when it happened, so quickly that he wasn’t even able to think. As he moved to get up, he felt a heavy weight drop on his back and arms wrap around his throat, and he acted on instinct. He slammed his back against the wall as hard as possible, hearing something crack behind him. He felt the hands slip from his throat, and he did it again, feeling the weight lift off of him.
He dashed away, turning to see the figure stand up, bruises already forming against his bald head. He looked up, staring Peter directly in the eyes.
Adrian Toomes.
Except-it wasn’t exactly Toomes. He was bald, for one thing, and frail-looking, much frailer than the Toomes that had driven him to homecoming. He looked older, too, wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that just weren’t there before. Peter could understand jail aging a person, but this didn’t make sense.
“Peter Parker, slippery as always,” he said, giving him a grin. He didn’t seem to be bothered despite the bruises and the fact that Peter had repeatedly hit him into the wall. There was no way. Toomes wasn’t anything to laugh off, but Peter could literally kill someone if he threw them the right way.
There was no way this was the Toomes in his prison. It was like he was a Toomes from a different world.
Peter’s eyes settled on the blue light coming from inside the man’s coat.
Or a Toomes from a different reality.
The answer was so simple, overcoming him all at once. Of course a person couldn’t be in two places at once. But two different versions of the same person, from two different realities-well, his Toomes could be sitting in jail, and the Toomes in front of him had the chance to kill whoever he wanted. It was like Matt had said. The impossible was possible.
“I guess that’s the same in every reality, huh?” Peter asked, trying to keep his voice calm and confident. Toomes threw his head back and laughed. It sounded like nails scraping against a chalkboard.
“Smart in every reality too. You figured it out, finally,” he said, eyes looking over him hungrily. It made Peter want to shudder.
“It took me long enough,” Peter admitted. “I should have realized it when you left your tooth behind.” Toomes frowned at that, the first time his maniacal grin disappeared. Huh. He didn’t seem to like the reminder that he had lost it, probably didn’t like the challenge to his power. “Why are you here?” Villains usually loved to talk and monologue, which tended to give him a chance to think of what to do next.
Peter was pretty good at thinking on his feet, but this was the kind of situation where he needed to understand what was going on, not just beat the man into the floor. Thankfully, this alternate Toomes was like most villains, and took the bait.
“Do you understand what this cube is, Peter?” He asked, staring at him again, the hungry look back in his eyes.
“It’s a source of arguably unlimited power, over space and time,” Peter said, remembering what Tony had told him about the Battle of New York.
“Very good. With it, you can open wormholes to wherever and whenever you want. Across universes, across time and space.”
“And you came here, for me.” It wasn’t a question. Peter was more than well aware of the answer, the point was just to keep him talking.
“Not intentionally. You had a debt to pay, though, and I figured I might as well,” he said, moving forward and circling around Peter. He tensed up, ready to fight, but the man laughed. “No need to do that. I like my meat fresh, unbothered. Surprised.” Jesus.
“I’ve never even met you before, I couldn’t possibly owe you anything,” Peter said, his voice low. Toomes stopped, staring at him.
“I suppose you don’t know then, yet. I’m from the 1930s, Peter, from a different Earth. And just like this Earth, you’re there too. A different version of you, of course. Older. Far less fun to play with, but still a good time.” Peter stayed still, waiting for him to continue. “We met when I bit the throat out of your dear Uncle Ben. You know, all humans taste good, but him in particular? He was delicious,” he snarled, the missing tooth a gaping hole in his grin.
Peter thought he was going to throw up.
“You eat people?” Toomes nodded, looking at his dirty nails.
“That was my act, you know. Back when I was kept in a cage like that one. They’d let me out to perform, and I’d bite the heads off chickens. Too squirmy, you see. A chicken knows when it’s about to die. But a human? The element of surprise freezes you. And the screams once a person realizes they’re being eaten alive? Delicious.” Peter was trying to focus, but the thought of this monster killing Uncle Ben-eating him-he was furious.
“Except for me. Considering I was able to bash you into a wall,” Peter said, his voice ice cold.
“Mm, that does seem to be a problem,” Toomes sighed. “After I killed your dear Uncle Ben in my reality, the other you was furious,” rolling his eyes. “At first, I couldn’t understand the sentiment. And then I saw you with her.” His face was tight, and Peter had a feeling he was getting closer to this all. When criminals got emotionally compromised, they got sloppy.
“With who?”
“Being in the circus, treated like a freak, I never saw myself as a family man. There was this woman though, once. She was fascinated by me, pulled me aside after my act and had me fuck her against the tent. I didn’t think anything of it. She came to find me a few months later, after we had moved on. Told me she was pregnant. I told her to get rid of it, but she didn’t. Again, sentiment. She had a daughter, named her Elizabeth.” Toomes took a knife out of his pocket and started twirling it.
“So who do I see years later, walking with you on the way back from your office? I see my Elizabeth, arm in arm with you. And months later, you let her die,” Toomes said, his voice accusatory.
“I didn’t let her die,” Peter argued, even though technically, he had no idea what his alternate-reality self would have done. Still, Liz had been his friend in this reality. He had cared about her, he had liked her. He still felt bad about uprooting her life.
“She was thrown off a building by Norman Osborn to get to you,” Toomes argued, voice rising. “You tried to shoot a web and snapped her neck. You killed her. You seem to do that in every universe I visit, huh?”
Peter stepped back, shocked. He was numb, the words racing through his head. He had killed Liz, in the same way he had killed Harry. Maybe not him, exactly, but a different Peter Parker had.
“Every universe?” He asked, watching the man’s eyes light up.
“Oh, yes. You killed Gwen Stacy in another one, Michelle Jones in another. You just can’t seem to keep the people you love alive, huh, Peter?” The words cut deep into his chest, and he had to stop himself from running at the man and shoving him back into the wall, hard. He’d probably get stabbed again.
“Matter of fact, you can’t keep anyone alive. You let me murder all of those people, and you did nothing,” Toomes continued, his tone conversational.
“What the hell do you want?” Peter got out, squeezing his hands into fists. “Are you planning on eating me too?”
“I considered it, at first,” Toomes admitted, as if he wasn’t talking about brutally eating someone alive. “But you’re too useful, you see. I came across this little cube, here, after I murdered Norman. The fool was keeping it in a file cabinet, asking for it to be stolen. It sent me across the universe, and it brought me to you, every time. Different versions of you, of course. And while I killed the first few you’s I found, I realized that I could use you and the cube for something better. You’re going to come with me, back to my Earth. And you’re going to help me kill my Peter Parker.”
“And why would I do that, exactly?” Peter scoffed. The man flung the knife, and Peter dodged it just in time. As he was dodging it, however, Toomes rushed towards him, shoving him against the wall.
“Because I could pay a little visit to everyone you love and care about right now and be back before you had a second to blink,” he said, his breath smelling like rot. “Let’s be frank, Peter. All you’ll ever be is a killer. In my universe, in yours. In all the ones I visited. But you don’t have to be like the pathetic versions of you I’ve slaughtered. You could protect the people you care about here.” The knife was right next to his hand, having gotten wedged in the wall from Toomes’s throw. If he could just keep him talking long enough, Peter might be able to use it on him.
“And I’m sure after that you’ll just happily let me go,” he responded, bitterly staring at the man. Toomes laughed. He hoped he would take the bait, talk at him and not realize his mistake in time.
“You are smart. None of the other you’s even asked that. I suppose I’ll just dispose of you then. Or maybe have the cube send you into space. It doesn’t really matter. You’ll die, alone. But you’ll have died avenging the death that you caused. You’d make up for what you did. Isn’t that enough?”
“I’m just supposed to leave, after all the people you killed?”
“I didn’t kill them, Peter. They were to get your attention, and rather than answer me sooner, you let more of them die. You’re a killer, face it.”
Move, now Peter!
Quick as he could, Peter yanked the knife out of the wall and shoved it forward, feeling it connect with Toomes’s flesh. It went through the muscle easily, thanks to his super-strength. Peter wasn’t sure what he would have done if he had had to put actual effort into it.
Toomes let out a scream, and Peter yanked out the knife, slashing it again as Toomes tried to grab at his throat. The man kicked him, hard, and Peter felt himself go flying. The cement pillar he hit crumbled on impact, and he felt a few of his ribs snap. Fuck, that stung. He couldn’t let up now, though, not with Toomes going back towards him.
He sprung up just in time before Toomes could stab him with another knife hidden in his coat, and the two begin to fight, hitting and punching whenever they could. Peter was fast and strong, but Toomes was agile and quick. He didn’t play fair, and he didn’t care about the pain he was causing Peter. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.
He couldn’t give up, though. He needed the Tesseract, to at least try and send Toomes somewhere else. It was still in the man’s coat, tucked in some pocket from what he could see. He feigned his next punch, letting Toomes put up a defense so he could dart under his arm and grab into his coat. The move worked, and he felt himself grab onto the Tesseract, but then a blinding pain went through his shoulder, and he screamed. His grip on the Tesseract slipped as Toomes yanked him away and threw him onto the floor.
He risked a glimpse at his right shoulder and had to look away. Toomes had bitten through the suit, and the marks in his skin were sluggishly leaking blood. He may have done dissections before, but seeing himself hurt like that? Yeah, no.
Toomes loomed over him, blood in his mouth and a horrible look in his eye. He didn’t move right away, instead sneering down at him.
“You’re a joke, Parker. I offered you the chance to redeem yourself, and you still tried to fight back. Now I’m going to have to kill you.”
“Not sure I want to be redeemed by a murderer,” Peter wheezed, the pressure on his ribs increasing as Toomes dug his heel into his sternum.
“I guess I’ll have to go pay your family a visit after all. Dear Aunt May still lives in that apartment in Queens, right? Want to hear what I’ll do to her? Or maybe I’ll bring you there to see it yourself.” A wave of adrenaline rushed through him at the words, and he grabbed Toomes’s leg, hard enough for him to feel the bone shatter. The man let out a pained yell, and Peter swung him away from him, hoping the impact with the wall for the third time would knock him out.
Peter jumped up, stalking over to where Toomes was trying to get up, another knife in hand. He mimicked Toomes, pinning him down with a foot to the sternum while he dug around in his coat. Toomes wouldn’t give up, flailing around and grabbing a knife out of nowhere and stabbing it through his shin, but Peter just pressed down harder with his foot and gritted his teeth as he closed his hand around the Tesseract.
He pulled it away, staring at the cube in his pocket. It cast a bright blue light on the room, and Peter could see well for the first time the entire fight. More importantly, he could see Toomes below him, a fearful look finally on his face.
“You put that down, Peter,” he said, voice frantic. “You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I think I do, Toomes. I’m not letting you hurt another person, and I’m not letting you use me like a hitman,” Peter responded, twirling the Tesseract in his hands.
“You could send me far away, you might kill me,” Toomes argued, making Peter laugh hollowly.
“Oh, so you’ll kill random, innocent people, but you getting what you honestly deserve is where you draw the line?”
“I can leave you alone, Peter. If you give me the cube back, I can send you anywhere you want. A different universe, a different planet. You could live the same life out as this one, but not make mistakes. You could save Harry,” Toomes suggested, his voice low and insistent. “All you have to do is give me the cube.”
That stopped Peter right in his tracks. He knew he shouldn’t trust Toomes, but there was no doubt in his mind that it was something the Tesseract could do. Hell, it had brought Toomes from the 1930s’ to now. He could do what he wanted, he could go to be with Harry. He could save him, this time. He looked into the Tesseract, and he swore he could see Harry’s face looking back at him.
In his mind, Harry-not-Harry spoke up.
The most obvious solution is usually the right one. Peter looked back at Toomes, who was staring at him intently.
“Make the right choice, Peter. Don’t you want to be happy again? With Harry?”
I want you to be happy. But it wasn’t Harry’s voice this time, not Harry’s blue eyes in his mind. It was MJ’s voice, warm brown eyes and a smile like the stars.
“I will be,” Peter said quietly. “Goodbye, Toomes.” He focused his mind hard, thinking of an empty planet devoid of any life, and the Tesseract reacted, quickly pulling Toomes into it before the horrified look on his face could vanish.
The blue light of it dimmed slightly, but Peter could still see the room around him. There was still music and sound outside, life not disrupted from everything that had happened in this room. With the threat gone, his body started to react, sending him very strong messages that he had been hurt, and to take care of that sooner rather than later. He used the Tesseract to look for his phone, finding it underneath some bits of broken cement.
Thankfully, it still was working, though the screen had slightly cracked. To his surprise, almost ninety minutes had passed, and his screen was filled with notifications from his friends. He looked at the ones from Miles, wincing when he saw the messages.
my name is: drone went off, going to go look. Stay at the party.
my name is: nothing here, false alarm
my name is: where are you? MJ just asked me if she saw you
my name is: you had better not have gone after whatever it is that set off the drone
my name is: peter?
my name is: just told johnny what was going on, we’re ending the party
my name is: gwen and I are going to go look for you, text me if you see this
my name is: we’re calling Tony
He could see a bunch from his other friends, but he went for the ones Tony had sent, reading them quickly.
irondad: kid, where are you?
irondad: miles told me you left the party you guys were throwing, you better just be puking in some alleyway
irondad: seriously, kid, where are you?
irondad: getting worried, call me when you get this
irondad: miles and gwen think the false alarm from the drone was because you went after what set it off. I swear to god, kid.
irondad: kid, please.
irondad: there’s literally a killer out there who was targeting you, peter.
irondad: i don’t want the last moment we had together to have been an argument
Peter breathed deeply, holding his hands against his ribs, and pressed the call button.
“Tony? Yeah, Tony, calm down. Calm down, I’m fine! I’m okay. I mean, mainly. Anyway, can you come pick me up?”
“So, Spider-baby, how are we feeling today? I heard you were up late studying for your finals?” Tony asked, tossing him a wrench. Peter caught it without looking, hard at work on the newest drone he was building.
“Yeah, Ned and I were working, and then MJ and Gwen came by because Johnny and Miles had planned a movie night, and then they ended up roping us into it, but we hadn’t finished studying, so we had to do that,” Peter rambled, sitting back and looking at the drone. “What do you think?”
“Good work. Little too cutesy, for my tastes, but you do name them after Spongebob characters,” Tony teased, taking out a bag of trailmix and snacking on them. “How do you think you’ll do on the exam?”
“Pretty good, MJ and I are going to finish reviewing today,” he said, patting the drone on the head.
“Oh?” Tony said, smirking as Peter blushed. “How’s that going?”
“Tony, seriously?” Tony laughed, clapping him on the back.
A lot had changed since Peter had called Tony from Coney Island. Tony had been frantic, rushing over to him in the suit and checking him over. He had been furious when he saw the knife still in his shin and saw how beat up he looked, but had gone speechless when he saw the Tesseract in his hand.
Things had been kind of hectic, after that, with Tony insisting that Peter go to the Med-Bay and his calling all of his friends to let him know he was still alive. Peter had been amused to see that Tony really did have May and all of his friends on speed dial.
Explaining what had happened with Toomes had been harder, talking about the Tesseract and the alternate versions of him that had been murdered. He didn’t know how the Tesseract ended up in this Norman Osborne’s possession, considering it was supposed to be on Asgard still, but Tony had just said that he would get in contact with Thor.
Once he had healed up though, and the Tesseract was no longer in his possession, Peter was left with the aftermath of everything. His friends, panicked over his disappearance and shocked once he explained what had happened. May, frantic with worry and practically crushing him to her in a hug. And Tony.
He and Tony hadn’t talked much about what had happened with Toomes, other than when he told him about the Tesseract. They certainly hadn’t talked about the last argument they had had before the whole mess started. They had spent the past month since then trying to get back to normal, trying to figure out a way to get Peter’s name out of the suspect list for the murders and explain what had happened to the public.
Thankfully, Miles and Gwen had helped him with that, coming up with an explanation and a way to get Peter back to patrolling. They had apologized for not fully believing him about Toomes, but they didn’t really have anything to apologize for. How were any of them supposed to foresee the impossible being possible?
The story was that Spiderman had been underground, hiding from the killer. The killer had used Peter as a taunt, because everyone knew that Peter Parker was friends with Spiderman. He had gone to fight the killer once Peter was “kidnapped” by the killer, saving the day and his long-time photographer. Poor Peter had unfortunately forgot what happened due to a hit to the head, and hadn’t been able to help the police.
The public had eaten the story up, and someone had started an online petition for Peter to help get his job back, since he had been framed by the killer when he was really the target. To Jameson’s dismay, he had practically been forced to hire Peter back or risk losing public support (and thus face a massive drop in subscriptions). Oddly enough, the public had run with the story and started theorizing that Spiderman was actually in love with Peter Parker, not just friends, and that’s why Peter had been kidnapped.
MJ had gotten a kick out of that one.
“MJ and I aren’t going anywhere right now, except to our favorite table at the library,” Peter said pointedly. Not that Peter hadn’t thought about more, but after talking with his new therapist, Valerie, he didn’t think that recovering from this whole mess was the best time to start a relationship.
That was another new thing, therapy. Peter had finally agreed to therapy once May and Tony had stopped fussing over him. He didn’t want to be stuck in that same cycle of sadness anymore. He couldn’t let something like this affect him again, not to the point of destroying himself and hurting the people around him.
Valerie was great, helping him work through his feelings of guilt, particularly about Harry. Peter was starting to realize that what he had considered “recovered” and “fine” before was just his being able to put up a particularly strong front. But the foundation of how he had been handling things? Well, that was like a hastily put together building, ready to crumble with any little stressor.
He was actually really considering how he was doing now, and he was realizing that his grief, while more manageable, was still a lot stronger than he thought it was. But he was working through it, trying to meet it where it was rather than squash it away with pain.
So no, things hadn’t really progressed with MJ, per se, but if it was going to happen, it would. And he felt in his gut that he would.
That was another thing, trusting his body with what it was trying to tell him. Like now-he could feel that Tony wanted to say something, wanted to talk to him.
“Are you okay, Tony?” Tony rolled his eyes, messing his hair up affectionately.
“I’m the adult here, kiddo. I just-we haven’t talked about it all, and I figured we should, sometime.”
“We could talk now,” Peter suggested, turning to look at him. Tony whistled at that, sitting down next to him after a moment.
“Where’s the Peter I know who would rather get his teeth pulled than talk feelings?”
“He went to therapy,” Peter said simply. “What’s up, Tony?” Tony sighed, twisting his wedding ring. It gave him a sense of deja vu, his mind flashing to that moment months ago, their argument a week after the ceremony. The more things seemed to change, the more some things stayed the same.
“I wanted to apologize. For what I said during that argument. Or really, I wanted to clarify,” he said, rushing to add on the last part. Peter couldn’t really look at him, the words he had said-God, Peter, I wish you hadn’t turned out like me-still hurting like a ton of bricks on his back.
“It’s fine, Tony, seriously.” Okay, not true, but some parts of training his brain to be more open about how he felt took longer than others. Therapy was a work in progress, after all.
“It’s not okay kid. What I said-it wasn’t fair of me to say that I didn’t want you to be like me. Kid, I know you’ve looked up to me. I’m not really sure why, I’ve made a hell of a lot of mistakes and acted like a complete jackass. When I said I wanted you to be happy, I meant that. Being like me-seeing you hurting so bad but pushing us away? God, it made me think of me. I never wanted you to feel like that, to hurt yourself and not let anyone else help. I wanted better for you, Peter,” Tony explained, and Peter looked up.
“Tony, I get what you’re saying, but if not being like you? If I’m being like me? I think you’re forgetting that ‘being like me’ can mean me being bitter and hurtful and cruel. I was so shitty to you and May, and my friends.”
“That’s not your fault, your body wasn’t getting enough food and you couldn’t help being a little cranky,” Tony argued, but Peter stopped him.
“Tony, I know you think it’s a bad thing to want to be like you, I do. I mean, I’m not trying to throw up in a wheelbarrow at an MIT party,” he said, causing Tony to make a little noise of protest. “But Tony, you’ve always taught me that being a hero means being accountable. Means making up for your mistakes. That night with Toomes,” he said, voice quiet, “he offered me the chance to go to a different reality.”
“Seriously?” Tony asked, voice incredulous. Peter hadn’t shared all the details with him right after he had been picked up, still processing over everything that had happened. It wasn’t even something he had told Valerie yet.
“Yeah. He offered me the chance to go to another reality. One where Harry was still alive.”
“And you didn’t want to?” Tony asked, voice just as quiet.
“I did. That was the thing, I really wanted to. I miss him, I probably always will. But I realized that as easy as that would have been, I’m happy now. Well, not in that exact moment, because to be frank, I felt like shit, but I knew I could be again. I couldn’t just leave behind the people I cared about, even if that was easier for me. I had spent the past month hurting you all, and I knew I would have to fix everything, work on myself if I stayed. But I couldn’t just vanish on you guys. How could I be happy again, leaving you all behind?” He looked up at Tony, who was staring at him fondly.
“You know, Peter, I take it back. You aren’t like me. You’re better,” he said. He squeezed Peter’s shoulder, and looked back at the drone. “I love you a lot, kiddo.”
“I love you too, Tony.”
"Even if you do make ridiculous looking drones,” he added on, flicking the top of the machine.
“Hey!” Peter uttered, pulling it towards him. “Don’t do that, you’re going to hurt his feelings!” Tony started laughing at him, but helped him test out the drone, making sure that it picked up on all the stimuli it was trained to look for. They were just finishing up when he felt his phone buzz, and he pulled it out of his pocket.
mj <3: try not to blow yourself up before our study session.
mj <3: see you soon, loser. Love you.
And at that moment, a grin on his face and his cheeks red, the warm feeling of happiness washed over him.